


I would never

by sparsilee



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-15
Updated: 2016-08-22
Packaged: 2018-08-09 01:00:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7780855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparsilee/pseuds/sparsilee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Okay do you know how sometimes people assume someone's gay and they keep yelling I'M NOT GAY like it's an accusation they need to defend themselves from? (I'm looking at you BBC Sherlock)<br/>Well that's homophobic as hell and really toxic for people who might still be in the closet and Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier, Marquis de Lafayette, is having none of it, so he has to convince his dumbass, drunk, flirty friend to stop hitting on his other caring, head-strong, maybe-gay friend.</p><p>(Spoilers: he does anyway)</p><p>College AU</p><p>"Lafayette sighed. Of course Hamilton hadn’t even heard of the closet."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A winter's night

“He’s gay”  
“Uh-uh. I’ve known the guy for years. He has never dated a dude,” says Lafayette shaking his head for emphasis, his hair bouncing. It turns out to be a not-so-good idea since the room is getting blurrier by the second.  
“Hell, he can’t be straight. I can only have one token straight friend, and that’s Burr.” Hamilton downs another shot, as if that name has left a disgusting taste in his tongue and the only way to swallow it is with tequila. Awful, cheap tequila.  
“Yo, what about me?” asks Mulligan. He is still sober, despite the line of empty beer bottles on the table. Maybe he talks a bit louder than usual, and his balance isn’t so good, but besides that alcohol doesn’t seem to have any effects on him.  
“What about you?”  
“I’m straight.”  
“Pffft, yeah, alright.” An eyeroll complets the words, as if they aren’t ironic enough by themselves. Mulligan chuckles and pulls his beanie down, covering his ears. It is late November and the cold in New York city is unforgiving, even in his tiny kitchen.  
“You think you’re so smart, boy. Why would you know my sexuality better than myself?”  
Hamilton seems to actually stop to think about that one, a moment of peace Mulligan uses to refill the glasses. They have been drinking for almost two hours already, playing silly drinking games and wasting their time, because he truly thinks Hamilton and Lafayette are going to accidentally kill themselves if they keep up their lifestyle. Both of them have been surviving on coffee, anxiety and sheer force of will for two months. And that’s unacceptable, because tequila is a fundamental part of any law student’s diet. He has dragged them both to his flat, where they efficiently drank most of his beers and now are working on finishing his flatmate’s tequila. At some point the conversation steered towards Hamilton’s last obsession, which boils down to: ‘how is it possible that I still haven’t made out with my very cute roommate’.  
“Fiiiiine, so you’re straight,” he accepts finally. “But try and tell me you wouldn’t make out with me right this second if I offered.”  
Mulligan hoped he would give up and forget the topic, but Alexander Hamilton has never heard of shutting the hell up. He just couldn’t comprehend the concept of silence. Truly, Mulligan never thought about it, not seriously at least, but right in that moment, with Alex resting his chin on his almost empty beer bottle and staring at him with his too-shiny brown eyes, his resolution wavers ever so slightly.  
“Dude, what?” Lafayette breaks out laughing. “No way on earth he would. Right, Herc?”  
“Do not call me Hercules,” Mulligan glares at him.  
“See?” Alexander claims triumphantly, like he coud read his mind and raises his arms above his head, spilling beer on the linoleum floor. “Not that straight after all. And I bet you my left arm Laurens is the same.”  
“Laurens isn’t gay” Lafayette repeats, rising his voice over Mulligan’s confused ‘why the hell would I want your left arm for?’.  
“Then explain why he has been flirting with me non-stop since we met.”  
“Because that’s just how you treat everyone,” Lafayette says matter-of-factly.  
“Hey, he could stop it anytime! Look what happened with Angelica!”  
“Yeah, dude, that was glorious” says Mulligan with a dreamy look on his face. He lives to see Alexander get dragged.  
“Just please don’t try this whole I’m-gonna-look-from-your-eyes-to-your-mouth-until-I-make-you-question-your-sexuality show with him, alright? It will make him uncomfortable.” Lafayette tries to settle the argument, feeling it could be endless.  
“I won’t. I will be subtle,” promises Alex. His friend makes a skeptical sound with his throat and Alexander slams his bottle on the table. “I SAID I WON’T, LAF. Shit, who do you think I am?”  
“We know exactly who you are, that’s what’s worrying.”  
“If he is gay he will tell you when he wants to. Meanwhile please please leave the kid alone.” At this point Lafayette is almost begging.  
“Alright” Alexander mumbles, but then a sharp smile spreads on his lips. “I’m so gonna fuck him someday”  
“Ugh, stop being such a slut, Alex!”  
The younger man puts a hand on his chest, faking hurt.  
“My gosh! Vous embrassez votre mère avec cette bouche, monsieur?” Alex’s french accent iss almost perfect but with the alcohol he slurred the words and it is impossible for Mulligan to figure out what he said.  
“What did I say about speaking fucking french in my kitchen?” he grumbles. “Something along the lines of DON’T, remember?”  
“Yeah, Alex, cut it. Ce n’est pas poli,” chimes in Lafayette.  
“What isn’t polite?” The three of them turned around at the same time, because Laurens has just walked into the room, bundled in so many clothes all you could see was his eyes and his curly hair splattered with snowflakes. He isn’t taken aback by the state of the kitchen, which is covered with dirty dishes, bottles and newspapers, or by his friends obvious drunk state.  
“Speak of the devil…” Alexander says before he could stop himself. The look Lafayette shot him would have killed him if only he had noticed.  
“You were talking about me? Not being polite?” Laurens looks so offended it’s almost cute. “I’m the most polite person you douchebags know.”  
“Nah, there’s Burr. And Eliza.” Lafayette disagrees, counting with his fingers. “And that one girl from my Civil procedures class that gave me a year worth of notes.”  
“Eliza isn’t polite, she is a literal an angel. And Burr is just fucking fake” Mulligan argues, then offers Laurens a bottle. “Beer?”  
“Yeah” he takes off his gloves and scarf and accepts the drink. “ONE beer, then we’re going back to our dorm.” He points a menacing finger at Hamilton, who pouted dramatically.  
“Noooo, I’m just getting into the talking-nonsense stage. Now it’s when the fun begins.”  
“Crap, I missed the hoemilton stage? That one is so painfully embarrasing I can’t help but enjoy it.” His friend gets rid of the winter coat and sits next to him. Hamilton crunches up his nose, a habit he picked from his roommate, although neither of them have noticed.  
“Laurens, listen. Bro. Buddy. Listen. You-” he digs a finger in his sternum, “are a douchebag. But you’re like, the cutest douchebag. And it’s unfair because you can just be a complete douchebag and no one. Could. Ever. Hate you.”  
“Alright” Laurens nods, pressing his lips together in a desperate attempt to not laugh, and ties his damp hair in a knot on top of his head. Althought it wasn’t his intetion, that proves effective in keeping Hamilton quiet since he is too busy looking at the way his light grey sweater clings to his body when he stretchs his arms over his head.  
Mulligan kicks him under the table.  
“Ow! What was that for?”  
“Stop drooling” his friend mouths.  
Laurens ignors them and Alex wonders if it was on purpose. He knows how obnoxious he could be when drunk, and that sometimes Laurens was embarrased -more than embarrassed, mortified- by Alexander’s obvious crush on him. Yes, maybe he has let it slide. So Hamilton follows suit, doesn’t return Mulligan’s quip, and instead joins Lafayette’s efforts to talk about something more lighthearted. Too bad he chooses finals.  
Only the mention of exams raises an unanimous groan of pain.  
“Please no” begs Mulligan. “Not today.”  
“I’m so behind” Laurens whispers, his eyes staring out of the window. “I’m gonna flunk if I don’t start writing right this second.”  
“Relaaaaax, you can study with me. I have an outline, everything’s planned,” Alex says, putting an arm around his shoulders, then retreating it when Lafayette grumbles a threat.  
“Did you remember to include time to sleep this time?”  
“Three hours every night, four on weekends.” No one seems concerned, that isn’t too bad for his usual sleep patterns.  
“Alright, that’s it.”  
Laurens sudden remark make Lafayette and Mulligan turn to him. Alexander was already staring when he starts drinking. The three of them watch, impressed, as he swallows three, four, five times, and finished the bottle.  
Mulligan is thrilled.  
“Having second thoughts about getting drunk tonight?” he asks with a grin.  
“Nope, but I have to take this nerd home” Laurens motions for Hamilton to get up. “Or he is gonna die when he starts cramming. C’mon, you have class early tomorrow.”  
“Why the hell does Alex take an early class on Fridays? You damn overachiever.” Mulligan sounds offended. He’s an average student, smart but relaxed, and never understood why his friends work that hard. In his opinion, they deserve at least that one night out drinking.  
“I need to finish law school fast, ok? Like hella fast.”  
“I hope you won’t say hella when you’re a lawyer” Lafayette deadpans.  
“Can’t make any promises. Okay, I’m ready to go,” Hamilton says, puts down his now empty bottle and tries to stand up. Tries, because the room starts spinning, he loses his balance, fails to grab the edge of the table and finally falls to the floor.  
His friends don’t even blink, if anything giggle a bit. No one moves to help him.  
“Such a fucking mess for a smartass,” says Lafayette.  
“I’m fiiine, don’t woooorry.”  
“We don’t caaaare,” his french friend imitates his way of dragging the words.  
“You three assholes are my favorite, you know that?” his voice is almost offended, so Laurens stands up with a sigh.  
“But who’s your most favorite asshole that’s gonna take your sorry ass home?”  
“You are.” Alexander looks up at him, his smile blinding.  
Laurens grabs his hands to yank him to his feet and puts an arm around his waist, and of course Alex takes advantage from the movement and links his arms around his neck. At that distance he could count the freckles on Laurens nose and cheeks. And damn, he smells good too.  
Lafayette also got up and stretches. He is a good head taller than Alexander.  
“Okay, I watch the drunkard, you get your coats,” he says, grabbing his younger friend by the shoulders so Laurens can step back, and waits until he was too far to hear to whisper to Alexander. “Too close for comfort, buddy.”  
Lafayette takes those moments to study his friend’s face. He has been pondering about something for weeks. “Hey, Alex. Do you remember what being in the closet was like?”  
“Uh, no.” Alexander fights to focus his eyes on him, two glassy spheres of deep brown filled with curiosity. “Like, the metaphorical gay closet? Nope. Why?”  
Lafayette sighs. Of course Hamilton hadn’t even heard of the closet.  
“Don’t try to give him the talk today, bro. He is drunk out of his mind,” Mulligan keeps his voice down just in case.  
“Nevermind. My point is, do not press him to admit if he’s gay.”  
“But he is so cute and is in denial and I just wanna make oooooout” Alexander groans.  
Laurens walks in from the hall with Hamilton’s coat in his hand and his eyes wide open. Panicked and suddenly feeling very sober, Hamilton exchanges a look with Lafayette.  
“I thought the hoe stage was over?” Laurens asks casually, and Alexander breathes again. His friend hasn’t heard the whole sentence.  
“Is it ever over with him?” Mulligan says, and with that danger is over. He hasn’t moved from the table, but probably is slumped further down in his chair. After all, he only has to go upstairs to his room, not like them. Hamilton shivers at the thought of walking home.  
“Good point. It’s his default state,” Laurens takes Hamilton by the waist again once he’s dressed. “Let’s roll, you walking disaster.”  
“I’m not even a walking disaster,” Alex complains. “I’m a tripping, stumbling disaster.”  
“Touché, mon ami.” Laurens bro-fists Mulligan with his free hand, lets Lafayette, still pale and worried, pull both of them into a one arm hug, and steps into the freezing air carrying most of Alexander’s weight.  
“Okay, do not give me any trouble, you hear me?” he warns him and shots a menacing look at Alexander, who raises his sleepy, satisfied face to look at his friend eye-to-eye.  
“Please, I would never.”


	2. Delighted and distracted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drunk people! Angelica Schuyler being a bad bitch! Freckles! Kissing!  
> (that is literally all) College setting btw

It was awfully cold in the outside, the winter wind making their scarves and gloves almost useless, but the asphyxiating heat inside the dorms doesn’t feel much better.  
“We made it alive,” Laurens breathes once they are both in the hall of their dorm and rubs his hands for warmth.  
“Sadly,” another voice shoots back, and they both turn around.  
There is people already in their pyjamas talking in the corridors, and some dressed to go out. Angelica is one of the latter: Laurens can’t see what she’s wearing under the smart coat, but she has woolen tights and black boots with sharp heels on. Her hair is braided into a bun, an elaborated and time-consuming style that makes Alexander think of evenings spent on the floor of Eliza’s room, flipping through her Anthropology books while his then-girlfriend worked on her sister’s hair. His stomach turns at the memory and for the hundreth time he is about to throw up, but once again manages to hold it in.  
“You were heading out?” At least John is still in good terms with the oldest Schuyler sister, but her dislike for Alex still seeps into the conversation.  
Hoping to be ignored, Hamilton lets go of John’s grasp and works on taking his huge parka off. He knows when to keep his head down and stay out of the way. Angelica is like a hurricane when she is angry, and she’s been angry at him for several months now.  
He hasn’t taken into account his balance still hasn’t recovered from the half a dozen beers and the uncounted tequila shots.  
Alexander is trying to unwrap the scarf Mulligan has tied too tight around his neck and go upstairs to his room, and next thing he knows the stairs are spinning around him and what used to be up isn’t up anymore, the world feels like he is doing somersaults underwater and he can’t breathe. When the floor comes up to meet him it’s almost a relief.  
Only it’s not the floor at all.  
The noise of his head slamming against the metallic handrail is terrifying and Laurens gasps.  
Angelica makes a noise halfway between a laugh and a disgusted huff.  
“Fuck, Alexander?” John kneels next to him, trying to get him to a standing position, and looks for pulse in his neck, checks his breath, “Call an ambulance.”  
“Oh my god can you get any more dramatic?” she rolls her eyes. The few people around them whisper between them in concerned voices.  
“He’s passed out, call a fucking ambulance,” John raises his voice, panicked.  
“Do not yell at me, John Laurens.” Angelica could freeze hell with the look she gives him. She unconcernedly nudges Hamilton with her foot, “He isn’t passed out, he is drunk and probably sleeping.”  
“Then why won’t he wake up?”  
Angelica inhales sharply, tries to count to ten (only makes it to three) and convinces herself that it would be mean to let Alex die. That would upset Laurens. And maybe even Eliza. And she would have to pretend she’s sad as well. She considers the situation: Hamilton, unconscious, sprawled on the stairs. His hand is lying, the palm facing up, and after giving it a moment of thought she steps viciously on it, digging her heel in his open palm, and with a pained gasp Hamilton’s eyes shoot open.  
“Well that was satisfying,” Angelica murmurs.  
Alexander is pale, and there’s a bump growing in his forehead, but besides that he seems fine.  
“He might have a concussion, wake him up every few hours, make sure he knows where he is, who you are, that sort of thing,” she says in a voice that makes it clear she is used to people following her instructions. Angelica isn’t paying them much attention anymore, instead approaches the wall mirror and re-applies her lipstick.  
“Thanks.” Laurens has his arms protectively around Hamilton and both of them sit on the stairs, drained of their strength.  
Angelica nods, pouts at the mirror and shoots a last glance at their reflection. “If he is dizzy after a while or loses consciousness again, take him to the hospital.” She says, and walks out.  
“What a bitch” Laurens grumbles, but with more admiration than annoyance.  
“Yeah, she’s great. Don’t ever get on her bad side though.” Hamilton says. He rests his back on John’s chest and sighs. “Is it weird that crushing my skull against a metal bar made me sober up?” he asks.  
Laurens can’t help but laugh at how dramatic he is.  
Hamilton manages to get up on his own and, with a wobbly pace, makes it to the shared bathroom outside their room. He washes his face and brushes his teeth while John goes to get something cold for his head. When he comes back with a box of frozen mac and cheese Alexander is sitting on the toilet, staring into the wall with his face resting on a hand.  
“Are you feeling better?” Laurens asks and holds the box against his friend’s forehead. “Are you dizzy?”  
“Nah, I’m good. Just thinking.” They both wait, because when Alexander has something on his mind it takes him less than five minutes to tell everyone. The boy is an oversharer. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you, and before I do, just so we’re perfectly clear, my thoughts and feelings for you won’t change in any way. You can be totally honest because your answer won’t-”  
“Alex, get to the point, please.” The exasperation in Laurens’ voice is the result of many hours wasted on Hamilton beating around the bush.  
“Did you like Eliza?” he blurts out finally.  
John sure isn’t expecting that.  
“Yes, of course. Still do.”  
“No, I mean, really like. Like like.”  
“What? No,” he says, his voice getting a bit defensive.  
“It’s just. You took her side after what happened-”  
“You cheated on her! Obviously I was gonna take her side.”  
“So I was wondering-” Hamilton continues as if he hasn’t been interrupted. “I couldn’t help thinking... Like, if something happened.”  
“No. I don’t go around comforting other people’s exes.” There’s an edge in Laurens’ words no one is used to hear.  
“Okay, okay, hint taken.” Hamilton seems to be having a difficult time puting his thoughts into words, and John wonders if that’s because of the alcohol or his head.  
“And it is none of your business even if I did. Not everyone writes three thousand word rants on facebook to explain their hook ups in detail.”  
Hamilton looks up at him like he is about to retort but instead he slides to the cold floor and opens the toilet.  
“Are you going to puke?” Laurens asks, crouching next to him. His friend shakes his head no, but he takes his hairband out of his own ponytail and quickly gathers Alexander’s long hair into a bun anyway. “Just in case.”  
There are some tense seconds of silence only interrupted by the sound of Hamilton dry-heaving. Laurens rubs his back.  
Finally Alexander sits back, paler than before and looking like he is about to cry.  
“Do you think I’m a shitty person?”  
“Well you damn sure aren’t a good one." Being honest is a bad habit sometimes, Laurens thinks, and tries yo soften his answer. “Why do you care about that, Alex? It’s never bothered you before. How was that… I don’t care what people say about me, as long as they are talking about me?”  
“Yeah.” Alex whispers, his eyes fixed on the bathroom tiles. “But it’s different with you. It’s scary that you could just, I don’t know, reconsider being my friend.”  
“I’m in too deep with you.”  
“Why don’t you wear your hair down more often? It looks good.”  
“Oh no, you’ve gone full circle. You’re at the flirty stage again.”

“We should go back to our room. Maybe we can still get some sleep. Angelica said that I have to wake you up every few hours to check you are alright,” he says, and then more to himself than to him: “I would’ve known this sort of thing if I studied medicine.”  
Somehow, Hamilton hears everything and knows exactly what to say.  
“You would have been a good doctor, but you’re gonna be a great human rights lawyer.” He says, and tugs at another of John’s curls. “You’re gonna become the US Attorney General and like, end institutional racism.”  
Laurens smiles a bit at that while he stretches his arms over his head, and Alexander makes a superhuman effort not to stare at the few centimetres of skin he can see when the t-shirt rides up. Which is truly difficult because he has seen Laurens shirtless and his stomach is a nice balance between cute freckles and toned abs.  
“But if I am Attorney general, what will you do?”  
Hamilton’s attention snaps back at his words.  
“Oh, I’m gonna get into politics,” he replies with as much nonchalance as he is able and pushes himself off the floor, almost sure that he doesn’t feel like throwing up anymore.  
“Okay, then, let’s go, Senator Hamilton.”  
“I don’t think I’ll be a Senator for long. Hey. You wanna know something cool?” Alexander takes advantage of the tiny space they are sharing, throws his arms around his friend's neck tightly and presses his mouth against Laurens’ ear, who can only hold onto him so they don’t fall, and whispers, like he is sharing a secret: “I’m gonna be president of the United States.”  
John grabs the edge of the sink to steady himself.  
“The worst part about that statement is that I believe it.”  
“You do?” Alex beams, and then gets serious in half a second, his mood changing like a light switch. “I never tell anyone that sort of thing anymore, you know? Because people thought I was a stupid kid whith stupid dreams when I said I would come to New York and get a scholarship for Columbia.”  
Laurens manages to put some distance between them. He is surprised Alex is confiding in him, not because they aren't close, but because he is such an individualist. Hamilton doesn't ask for help, doesn't share his doubts, doesn't confide his troubles. So this is kind of a big deal, and John has no idea how to cheer him up, because Alexander is staring intently into his eyes like waiting for an answer.  
“But you did," is the only thing he can say, and it sounds wrong to him, but his friend raises his chin proudly and says:  
“Hell yes I did.”  
A small grin creeps onto John's lips and the lack of space between them, that usually would feel oppressive, seems now pleasant. They are still holding onto each other and once again Alexander pulls a strand of hair until it's twice as long as usual, then releases it and watches it bounce back to its original form. No one before has touched Laurens' hair with such a pensive expression.  
"Why are you so fascinated by my hair?"  
"I'm not. I'm fascinated by you," Alex mumbles and repeats the process. He notices how nervous his friend gets and ignores it on purpose. There's something he needs to say before allowing himself to close up again. "John, if you weren't okay with this, you would tell me? I mean it’s fine if you’re not into me or into guys in general or not interested in, I don't know, romance, or hook-ups, or anything at all, because I would be up for pretty much anything you want, but... just let me know if this is going nowhere so I can stop hopelessly crushing on you.”  
"I'm not- You are not-" he tries to explain. He really, truly tries to explain. He wants to tell Alexander everything. That all the shameless flirting doesn't bother him, as long as it's directed to him. That seeing Alex joking with other people hurts, because then the times he jokes with him seem less special. That he loves walking him home, doesn't matter if he is sober or drunk, if it's winter or summer. That he's grown into him, from being the annoying roommate that never stops talking to the close friend he never wants to shut up. But he can’t work with words like his friend does. And he sure as hell can’t work with feelings. So instead he moves stiffly forwards and presses his mouth against Alexander’s.  
And for a moment that’s all. It’s just like all the previous kisses he’s tried to give: awkward, artificial and dissappointing. They barely count as kissing. His stomach drops at the thought that this is it, this is how kissing feels, it wasn’t that he was doing it with the wrong girls or even the wrong gender…  
But then Alex shifts.  
He tilts his head and his mouth suddenly doesn’t feel like just a mouth, but there are lips, real and lively and moving against his own, and Alex’s teeth graze softly his lower lip, more caressing than biting it, and his hands, that had been hanging at his sides, are not anymore: one sneaks under his hair to the back of his neck while the other is on the small of his back, pressing their bodies together.  
And just like that Laurens becomes painfully aware that Alex is not only warm lips and teeth and hands, he is also a chest pressing against his own and soft strands of hair falling between their faces and tickling his nose, and…  
And, and, and.  
There’s so much of Alex on and around him that John has to step back to breathe.  
He doesn’t follow, only swallows and stands there with bright eyes, like he is waiting for a jury to come back with a verdict.  
John leans back against the wall, sighs, looks nervously at himself in the mirror behind Alex, at his crazy hair and wet lips, and once he can’t avoid it anymore, at Alex himself.  
“I think I’m gay,” John blurts out when he thought he couldn't hold it in anymore.  
His friend’s face breaks in the widest smile.  
“Well, I hope so,” he says, only with a trace of smugness hidden in all the relief.  
Hamilton reachs out for him, but Laurens shakes his head. His body is aching to go back to Alex but his mind is finally catching up and he is freaking out.  
“What am I supposed to do now?” he whispers. It comes out less scared than he expects.  
“Uhm, date me, for starters.”  
Everything seems simple for Alexander Hamilton. You decide what you want. You go after it. If it’s too far away, you plan how to get there and work your ass off to make it happen.  
So he will find a way to make them work. They will find a way, so John decides to stop worrying for one day, just tonight, and smiles back.  
“And why would I do that?”  
“Look, I am always ready to fight anyone who bothers you, you don’t even have to ask, also I’m really smart and have the best class notes that you can borrow AND you get to be the cute one of the relationship” Alexander says, raising a finger for each reason.  
“Shut your mouth,” Laurens can't help to laugh and drags him out of the bathroom. “Let’s get you to bed.”  
Hamilton complies. “Only if you come with me," he says, flirty as always, then remembers who he is talking to. “Oh shit. I didn’t mean that. Please don’t tell Lafayette I said that. Fuck, we're gonna have to explain this. Tell him you totally kissed me first, okay? He is gonna kill me. Crap. I was just kidding with the bed thing. Please don’t come to my bed until you feel comfortable with it. I’m so sorry. Don't let Lafayette kill me.”  
Laurens stifles a laugh. He is quite enjoying this new nervous, almost shy Alexander.  
“You sure you didn’t mean that? 'Cause I’m considering it.”  
Hamilton scowls at him, looking mildly offended.  
"Do not play with my feelings, John Laurens."  
John stops in his tracks. They are already in front of their room and he opens the door to let Alexander get in first. His eyes open in a fake gesture of inocence.  
"Me? Please. I would never."

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a little something I wrote while writing a College AU. I liked the idea but it didn't fit the plot/characters, so here it is, side fic.  
> Also, I don't know a word of French.


End file.
